


david and Goliath

by alwaysactually



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysactually/pseuds/alwaysactually
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hes so much bigger than you. you always forget that. hes hunched over usually at an angle just unnatural enough to make looking at him uncomfortable. but like this he towers over you. a scarecrow<br/>(if he only had a brain, rotted with slime, oozing with sopor dripping from his ears, he’s soaked in it, broke from it)<br/>in tattered clothes with knotted muscles and jutting ribs, clubs hanging from his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	david and Goliath

hes so much bigger than you. you always forget that. hes hunched over usually at an angle just unnatural enough to make looking at him uncomfortable. but like this he towers over you. a scarecrow

 (if he only had a brain, rotted with slime, oozing with sopor dripping from his ears, he’s soaked in it, broke from it)

in tattered clothes with knotted muscles and jutting ribs, clubs hanging from his hands.

he advances, his gait stiff and too loose hes got doll limbs, knotted muscles and ball joints, his arms swing when he walks like a gorilla and youre scared like striders never should be, like striders never could be

(wheres your courage little lion, king of the forest, of the concrete jungle)

and it burns. fear burns why didnt they tell you that this thrum in your veins is worse than fire, that it’s worse than actual pain and that anticipation can kill.

(not a king just a knight)

you don’t believe in god and you sure as hell ever will, religions a hard thing to grasp when godhood falls so neatly into your palm, but youre praying to something, anything but what mostly comes out is a broken chorus of

oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god

and to what god you don’t know the one who’ll take pity on you right now.

hes still advancing and your knees are weak

(all of you is weak, youve always been weak)

and your palms are slick with sweat and liquid terror and you cant hold your sword, your grip keeps slipping, the tip shaking. youre so unsteady

(you need breath more than air)

(light more than sun)

(space more than stars)

tremors keep wracking your thin frame and youre skinny too, but not this brute harsh unforgiving skinny and certainly not the gaunt way his skin stretches over his cheekbones and his smeared face paint darkens the pits of his eyes like an executioners hood, the ravens and crows waiting to take what they can from the dead.

the sword falls from your hands, he strikes.

the blow grazes your temple, sends your sunglasses skittering across the floor and you to your knees.

you

scramble after them and you almost want to laugh because my glasses my glasses and hes the most scooby doo villain youve ever met except hell mount your head on his wall and bottle your blood for kicks in return for being a meddling kid.

something clatters and theres chalk on your palms and you can feel him behind you while you sit on your knees, shades pressed to your chest head bent in some mockery of a prayer

(pluck five stones from the rivers bed)

and oh god you can feel the weight in the air, you can feel the rise of the club and you can’t die like this because itll only happen over and over again as long as he wants to play with you.

(five stones)

you reach for something

anything

(from the rivers bed)

your hand closes around it and its solid its heavy and its

life

its your life in your palm

and you whirl and aim it right for his leer for the teeth you know he wants to dig into your jugular and to paint his miracles with.

it connects and any hope you had shatters

his grin doesnt fade and hes coming towards you again

hes

(whose son are you?)

swaying, unstable on his feet

(whose son are you?)

and he goes down

(whose son are you?)

goes down hard, expression unchanging, the can dented and rolling at his feet.

Goliath finally fell

by davids hand.


End file.
